


I gave you something you can never give back (don't you mind)

by Ecclxsia



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abusive Relationship, Angst, M/M, OCD, controlling boyfriend, mental health
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-22 08:49:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3722716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ecclxsia/pseuds/Ecclxsia





	I gave you something you can never give back (don't you mind)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lanthanesthai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanthanesthai/gifts).



Caro had never liked having too many eyes on him at once. It made him feel like a show pony, a kind of toy being paraded around by someone trying desperately to prove they could turn the pathetic clay that was Caro Malevic into something wonderful. His mother had tried, frantically attempting to assimilate Caro into a world of socialites and businessmen, so that he may one day inherit the empire of his father and schmooze with the best of them. It had not worked. She hadn’t moulded the clay that was Caro into anything but an olive-skinned, lanky man, shy and disconnected from the world around him. She had not turned him into something wonderful.

It had been different with Will.

Caro had truly felt like something wonderful. Will had moulded him carefully, spun him and spun him until Caro was falling dizzily into Will’s arms with a smile. Will had not paraded him like his mother. Had not tried to shove him into the big, bad world and prove he was something spectacular. He had just let Caro feel great, in the privacy of their own walls. He let Caro feel like a spectacular being, brought to life by Will’s lips on his lips, his neck, his torso, everywhere. Which was why he’d let Will talk him into coming out tonight. 

He’d convinced himself that it would be different, more like things in the early stages of their relationship. But still, Caro knew the hardness that had begun to move into Will’s eyes after a year of their relationship had made itself at home, and was not leaving any time soon. He supposed Will had realised the shyness he once found endearing was not a habit Caro was going to lose, no matter how much Will urged. Most habits that had endeared Caro to Will in the beginning seemed to annoy him now. When Caro would follow Will around the living room of his apartment until he took his shoes off, to make sure he didn’t track mud, Will no longer laughed. He narrowed his eyes and snapped, “It’s fine, Caro.” 

When Caro washed his hands two, three, four times in the space of twenty minutes, Will no longer gave his hands a quick, but strong, squeeze and kissed his knuckles. He rolled his eyes and nudged Caro away from the sink with his shoulder, using so much force that Caro stumbled and nearly knocked into the fridge. Caro never left though. Because his Will was there, underneath this other Will. Caro could see it. There was still a softness in Will’s touch, when he wanted there to be, and there was still a whisper of a smile on his face. Little things that reminded Caro that his Will was still there. So when this new Will wanted to throw plates at him, or punch him until his ribs cracked, or scream at him until Will’s voice went hoarse, Caro would let him. Caro would apologise for making him angry, and Caro would clean up whatever mess was made. Because hours later, when Caro was lying in bed, half crying, half asleep, wondering if staying really was worth it, Will would crawl into their bed smelling of whiskey, sometimes vodka, sometimes tequila, and other males, whispering, “They’re not you, Caro, they’re not you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. There’s no one else like you. I’m sorry,” over and over again, until the words lodged in every crack and bruise Will had made that night and began to stitch Caro up again. It didn’t matter that Will had gone out and tried to sleep with someone else, and it didn’t matter that Caro’s whole being ached. All that mattered was that Will wanted him, and only him, and Will would smile sleepily before passing out, and Caro would see just a glimpse of his Will. And that would be enough to hold on. Because, his mother had taught him one useful thing; Love was holding on through everything, the good and the bad – because, if you don’t have each other, you’ve got nothing at all. 

And so, now, Caro walked through a club with tinny techno music ringing in his ears, gripping Will’s hand so tight he was sure the blood circulation had been cut off to their conjoined hands. He was not prepared to meet Will’s latest friends; the owners of this so-called club, though Caro counted 26 health violations before they’d even reached the table at the back of the club. He’d walked over countless spots of food, and drink, and whatever else had been dropped on the floor. Caro made a mental note to throw his shoes out later. Will led him through the sea of bodies, gripping his hand tightly as if he could read Caro’s mind, could hear him pondering the difficulty of making a break for it.

“William!” the tallest one called out, raising a hand to draw Will’s attention. Caro bit his lip and glanced up at Will who grinned at the tall, tattooed man, raising his free hand in a simple half wave before turning to Caro. He pulled Caro close, as if to embrace him. Caro grinned and closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around Will’s neck. Will didn’t respond, and Caro knew he’d misread the signs. With a quick squeeze of Caro’s hips, Will narrowed his eyes.

“Do not say anything unless they speak to you, okay? I won’t have them thinking you’re some kind of socially incompetent freak.” 

Caro winced as Will squeezed his hips, pressing down on bruises he knew full well were there. Caro nodded, glancing at the ground. Truth was, he wasn’t socially incompetent, not really. He knew how to pretend, he just didn’t like to. He’d done it enough for his mother, and it was tiring. Caro would prefer they treat him like some kind of social retard.

Once Will was certain he’d gotten his message across, he smiled—tight, with no real emotion—and took Caro’s hand, leaning in to kiss him on the forehead before moving over to the awaiting table.  
“Hey, boys,” Will said as he took the last available seat in the booth. He seemed to forget about Caro for the moment, standing awkwardly without a seat, as he enveloped himself into conversation with these friends of his. After what seemed like an awkward eternity for Caro, Will leaned back in his seat and pulled Caro onto his lap. Caro bit his lip and glanced down as all eyes on the table turned to him.  
“A bit soft, Will. Aren’t you worried you’ll break him?” another of the men asked – this man looked like a red headed version of Santa Claus, if he ever tried Jenny Craig and managed to lose a few.  
“Say hi, babe,” Will encouraged with a none too soft squeeze of Caro’s thigh below the table.

“Um, hello,” Caro said quietly. Those two words were enough to send the table into an uproar of hoots of laughter and hands slapping on the table.

“Ah, you pick well, William,” said the tallest, tattooed man, “is he always this timid? Suppose it’s good for you, eh? Won’t fight ya in bed.” 

“God, wouldn’t I like that for once,” piped up the man next to red headed Santa, “I’m running out of damn rope with Noah.”

That sent a loud ripple of guffaws through the men again, Will included. Caro glanced between them, and then back down at the table, studying the sticky substance covering the tabletop like a film of filth. It made him uncomfortable, hearing them talk about him like that, but the sharp nails in his sides made him very aware that he shouldn’t interject, not that he would’ve anyway.  
“Maybe Will’ll give ya a turn with his toy,” said Mr Tattoo.

Caro’s head shot up at that suggestion, and he bit down on his lip hard, tensing in Will’s grip. Mr Tattoo grinned. “Looks like your man’s interested, William,” he said, the sarcasm in his voice was obvious, even to Caro, whose veins were currently pumping fear through his body, rather than blood.

Will laughed, running his hands up and down Caro’s sides. The sound was hollow, even to Caro, but that was how most of Will’s laughs sounded lately.  
“What I say goes, Jack. Caro won’t argue… But, you know I don’t share my things,” Will said, a sharp edge to his voice. He gripped Caro’s hips tighter, and Caro knew that he’d probably pay for the man’s suggestion later.

“How could we ever forget?” Mr Tattoo—Jack—said with a chuckle. Still, he leaned in closer to Caro, running a finger down Caro’s cheek, neck, and across the collar of his plain t-shirt. Caro shivered, and leaned back into Will. “Always did like ‘em shy,” he said, and Caro was left to wonder whether Jack meant himself or Will. 

Will laughed again, and with one hand, tilted Caro’s face to face his own. He kissed Caro quickly and deeply, in a way that was not exactly suitable for public viewing. Though, Caro figured, these men probably enjoyed the show. Will pulled away after a moment, giving Caro a small smile, a glimpse of his Will. 

The rest of the evening went on like that. In between conversations, the men would tease Caro, and Will would kiss him, or run his hands all over him, in ways barely suitable for their bedroom, let alone in company. And Caro didn’t complain, nor did he get up to leave, though he very much wanted to. Because after every kiss, squeeze, or painful touch, Will would smile at him, or press his forehead to Caro’s and smirk, or do something that reminded Caro of the Will he fell in love with, the one that was still there if Caro looked deep enough. And Caro was prepared to spend the rest of forever looking deep enough to find his Will, because he had nothing else. And though his mother had long since left him (as most people in his life seemed to do), her words kept reverberating in his head:  
Love was holding on through everything, the good and the bad – because, if you don’t have each other, you’ve got nothing at all.

And Caro was very, very good at holding on.


End file.
